A Tender Instrument
by Lysis
Summary: A romantic Alexander. He becomes enchanted with a harp girl. It is based roughly on a cite from Plutarch's Sayings of Alexander and Philip wherein he fell for a harp girl at a feast, et al.


A Tender Instrument by Lysis

(February 2015)

Rating: PG, (well, as PG as Alexander's world would have gotten.)

**This is a Valentine's Day gift to all the readers who were so kind and wonderful with my story about Bagoas. I really appreciated your kindness and reviews! Thank you!

*This story is based on an anecdote partly from Plutarch's _Saying__s__ of Alexander and Philip_ and another passage which I am currently unable to locate. The first passage from _Plutarch __is__:"__19\. When Antipatrides brought to dinner a beautiful harp-player, Alexander, stirred to love at the sight of her, asked Antipatrides whether he happened to be at all in love with the girl; and when he admitted that he was, Alexander said, "You abominable wretch! Please take her away from here at once__."_

The second cite, I am trying to locate was basically that Alexander is said to have purchased a young harp girl to play for him. The cost was quite high - several talents of gold. So, what I have always been curious about…was it just her lovely music he wished to content himself with or perhaps…something more, especially that he would pay so high a price as a talent or more. We know nothing more, and perhaps this story is merely that, a story, but it has always intrigued me. So here is my take on it, all fictitious. I place it while he was in Khmet.

Thank you to Vampire Reader for editing.

* * *

The music melded with the vision in his head and Alexander sighed. He rested his head in his hand, his eyes showing the distance of his thoughts. They were dreamy and far away. Hephaistion nudged him, and turned to Philotas. They both smirked when he failed to respond.

"He is mesmerized." Hephaistion grinned as he held a fragrant blue lotus to his nose. The flower was unusual, but lovely. That could be said for their sojourn to this land in full. It was full of mysteries, myths and legends. They were in Khmet, Memphis, celebrating Alexander's crowning as Pharaoh. That he had insisted on being crowned with the war crown had delighted his Macedonians, but made some of Amon's priests, at first concerned. That concern had been allayed immediately, in his honoring of the young Apis Bull, the living god on earth. The spectre of the cruelty of Persia had vanished with the reverent touch of Alexander's hand upon the young bull's black head.

Indeed, thought Hephaistion remembering how Alexander had treated the young, unblemished bull as he did Boukepahlos. Speaking with it tenderly, feeding it from his hand, and garlanding it with flowers. Its priests had been greatly delighted as he had stood with it so. Then they had cried out in awe and fallen to their knees, as did all present, as a single shaft of bright, golden light had speared through the temple's dark inner precincts illuminating them both, the two young gods. Amon's name on his lips, he had pulled them to their feet, thus wining their everlasting praise and devotion. That was Alexander in his heart. His devotion to the gods, Hellene or otherwise was true and devout.

Tonight, though, was a time for men, and celebration. With Alexander joyous in his newly accepted honor, this was a night for old friends. This was a feast for Macedonians only. Still, they could not help but be mesmerized by this strange and wonderful land. It was a dream they had discussed endlessly as boys as they had read in Herodotus of Ramses the Great Pharaoh and his warrior lion, Hera RA.

Alexander had inquired if such lions were bred and if so wished for one. It would run beside Boukepahlos into battle. They had laughed over this, both knowing such a thing could only be legend, but it intrigued them both. How Boukepahlos might accept such a rival lead to a happy hour of silly tales they spun for their own enjoyment.

As they had gazed in awe upon the great pyramids of stone at Giza, and walked the richly adorned, enchanted palaces of glittering Memphis, living myth lay at their feet and was the air they breathed. All were enchanted, how could they not be? This land had welcomed Alexander with open arms. It had crowned him with gold and cried out his name in joyous adoration. Indeed, anyone, even a wild golden haired young warrior king from Macedonian was better than their cruel former Persian overlords. Alexander, though, had won their hearts easily. Hephaistion knew he would. He treated these people of this fabled land and their mysterious gods with deep respect.

"Aye, but by the music or the musician, I cannot say, but…" Philotas voice brought him back to the present. With great amusement Hephaistion watched as Philotas crossed his brawny arms, sat back with great satisfaction as he beckoned to a slender, ebony haired flute girl who had been tempting him the night long. She finally came near in a cloud of iris scented veils, and he rose swooping her into his arms laughing as he fell back on his couch with his prize. "He'll have her in his bed within the hour." Hephaistion pursed his lips, rolled his eyes and shook his head reflecting the girls didn't need much persuasion.

"Perhaps..." He winked at blue eyed Philotas who was lounging indolently now, unveiling the giggling girl.

"You know he favors harp music, and harpists, having once played the kithara. He still has a fondness for such things. But, ah, that look in his eyes… He is enraptured by the sound, enchanted by her fingering along the strings. He has forgotten that he is now a living god, but seeks man's passions." Hephaistion turned at the sound of Nearkhos who sat down beside him. He frowned and moved away as Nearkhos leaned close.

"You are dripping on me."

Nearkhos frowned, touching the scented beeswax cone melting on his hair and finally set it down upon the carpeted floor. His shoulder length black curls were rich with sweetness, enough to make one sneeze. Hephaistion had set his own beeswax cone away early on. His curls were short and early drenched with rich perfume. It was all he could stand. He grinned at Hephaistion who noted he had painted his black eyes, and looked every bit a son of Minos this night. "I smell sweet though, do I not? So, he favors the harp tonight."

"I think he favors this _particular _harpist." Hephaistion laughed at both his questions as he watched Alexander slide off his couch to stand next to the harpist. He lifted a long lock of her curly red hair in his fingers, sniffed it and kissed it. He placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder, and the music stopped. No more than seventeen, perhaps eighteen at the most, the girl's creamy skin bore the slow rush of blood that formed a sweet blush upon her soft cheeks as she sat unmoving. Alexander bent low touching the harp as they spoke. A note lingered in the air, to be joined by another as his fingers caught the strings, plucking them though he had sought her side for the music alone.

Hephaistion and several others looked up as a lovely tune took form beneath Alexander's fingers. He smiled, leaning against Nearkhos who was also beckoning a flute girl. "'Tis good to hear him making music again." Nearkhos hushed him with a wave of his hand.

"Quiet, else he should notice we are listening. He will stop, I know it." Hephaistion nodded, his happy smile suddenly dimmed.

"Aye, 'tis at Philip's feet I put that loss. He was skilled." Hephaistion mused as he sipped some wine. "He does still play the lyre."

Nearkhos nodded, "Aye, of course, the lyre is a simple gentleman's instrument, but he, like the kithara is not so simple. It suited him, the complexities of its melodies, the skill required."

"Aye, another thing to lay at Philip's feet. 'Twas something he was proud of, he loved. I rue the day he lost that." Hephaistion muttered to himself as he stared at his silver trim sandaled feet which had been washed with perfumed oils earlier. He had enjoyed that, and was thinking a hedonist lifestyle might suit him well. Of course, the pretty slave who had bathed his feet had had a way with her fingers that he had not minded in the least. Nearkhos nudged him, and winked.

"Well, perhaps she will aid him in regaining it? Aye?"

"They make a pretty picture." Ptolemy, who had been listening to the conversation said as he leaned toward them. He had refused the beeswax and wore a simple wreath of flowers upon his curly brow. "I think too they will make prettier music when sounded together.

"He looks a man who wants his bed. Think you he wishes her to play him to sleep?" Seleukos, asked, his blue eyes a fire with merriment as he joined the small circle. He had a lithe, nubile, Nubian beauty under each arm, and was on his way to _his _bed. "I shall be sung to my sleep, indeed, I shall sleep well." He squeezed and cuddled the girls who giggled and feathered his face and bare chest with kisses. "I cannot stay, but bid you all good night!" He turned toward Alexander with a shout as he and his prizes made their way toward the exit of the banqueting room. "A good eve to you, fair prince! Invade Khmet this night, I vow she'll yield easily!" Alexander shook his head, but grinned good naturedly as he waved his companion off.

"Ah, I think he means for her to play his flute. All night long! I hear a special technique is needed to play _his_ flute. I will instruct her does she fail on the finer points!" Krateros burst out, his meaning all too clear as he joined them. He too had painted his blue eyes, and resembled Alexander as he had been at his crowning, when he had seemed more of Khmet than Hellas in short pleated white linen kilt, glittering pectoral and painted eyes. Krateros' attentions momentarily redirected toward his companions.

Hephaistion burst out laughing thinking on the unlikihood of Krateros' boast, and could not let it go. "You, Krateros? Since when have you learned of Alexander's special needs? Is this something new, for he has said nothing to me? And, here I thought, like good Ptolemy and Philotas you spurned that special love." Krateros, not so deeply into his cups, as he had been busy on his couch with a lovely girl, turned bright red, then grinned and fell back upon his couch in an uncontrolled gale of laughter. He rose only to dart from his couch, grab Hephaistion up and smack a kiss hard across his lips while attempting to pat his buttocks, and thrust his hips at him.

"There, I know enough!"

"Ass!" Hephaistion grumbled as he pushed him away. He wiped his hand across his mouth and sighed as he sat down. "Ass!" He muttered again, but was smiling. Krateros was not one to keep down and he could be outrageous when drinking, or well, doing almost anything, except in the field. Then he was deadly serious, and woe to those who did not heed the signs. He knew only one other, Alexander himself, who was so close to Ares.

Alexander heard their chatter, but ignored it. He had been too enchanted for the last three hours to care who said what or who did what to whom. He wrapped the long spiraling curls about his hand, and smiled at the girl. Her hair, the color of fire burned in his hand as he closed his fingers upon it. She was a Kelt from a small isle from beyond the Pillars of Herakles. She had green eyes, never had he seen such green eyes. They reminded him of new grass. They called to him as her music had, across the room, until all he could hear, breathe, think and wish was for those green eyes to be upon him. He felt a tightening in his loins, a tug against the nature of his self-discipline. His fingers stroked her shoulder where her robe revealed tender skin. Her skin was pale, a lovely, glowing apricot against the brazier light. She wore no paint or jewelry and seemed a creature more of Artemis than anything else in that moment. He had no wish to frighten her, or surprise himself anymore than he already had. However, when he had heard her music he became entranced; and then a bit ensnared by his imagination which had those long, slender fingers doing the most remarkable things to him.

After speaking with her a moment longer, he returned to his couch. He smiled at her as though they were alone in the room and she spun a new melody. He sat up breathing hard, feeling suddenly quite warm. He glanced about; no one had noticed anything untoward on his part. He clutched the front of his chiton as she moved her small feet. They were very white and small. Delicate feet, like her hands. Long toed, long fingered. His gaze flowed over her. Petite, delicately formed, not so slender, but rather nicely plump, quite large breasted, he smiled, that was something he liked. This was something he and Hephaistion had debated upon endlessly when they had been boys. Which of those attributes were necessary in a female bed fellow for pleasure? Alexander studied the young girl. Her music was bewitching, those long curls, her high, plump breasts… He closed his eyes and lay back upon his couch, breathing in deeply.

Two days ago she had been playing at the house of his host at a feast in his honor, and had caught his eye. The harp, like any instrument, he loved, but the harp, kin to the kithara of his youth, was special. Music filled his heart with unspoken joy, and he found himself studying the young musician. He also found himself distracted by her looks, and felt more and more compelled toward her. His host, noting this, inquired of his interest. He could not help but acknowledge he was intrigued and before long they had made an arrangement. He was three talents lighter, but felt he had the best of the bargain. He stood up suddenly, feeling lightheaded. Hephaistion who had been watching him grinned roguishly. Alexander turned his head away, gathering himself; he could feel hot blood rising in his face. He tossed Hephaistion a saucy grin, as he strode toward the girl.

She played two more pieces then he stopped her as he made a pretext of studying the harp, again. He bent low and kissed her cheek, stroking back the hair behind her ears. They were small, and pink, he noted. Her skin was smooth and sweet to stroke like a kitten's.

Hephaistion leaned toward Ptolemy. "I think he will decide now 'tis time to retire." He grinned watching Alexander with the young girl whom he had protectively wrapped in his arm as he led her from the room. He caught himself from laughing, and pursed his mouth tightly observing as Alexander ushered the girl along beside him. He paused a moment nodding toward Hephaistion, the smile on his lips speaking his good night.

His companions watched him retire; Hephaistion's eyes more attentive than the rest. Lying back, he sighed in relief, pleased Alexander was happy. He turned his attention to a young page who had caught his eye earlier in the month. He watched the boy. He was graceful, and compact like Alexander, though already Alexander's height while still a youth. He would outgrow his king, and gain a height close to Hephaistion's own. He had bright green eyes and snow white hair; he felt a stirring in his loins. Gorgias, of Amphipolis He watched him, as he moved about down at the far end of the tent as he helped mix and serve wine. His thoughts went in two directions toward green eyed Gorgias and Alexander.

* * *

He had first seen when Alexander had been taken with the girl, and heard his longing and fears he might not be allowed to buy her. Then his concern that she might love her master and not wish to leave him. He was woeful. He had moaned of cruel Eros striking him, keeping the object of his desire out of reach. He would not force anyone, and his host had shared affection for the young harpist. At first he had spurned all the attempts of his host his offer of the girl. Hephaistion had enjoyed watching Alexander duel with his conscience. He wanted the girl, but honored the bonds of guest friendship, and something more. He would not transgress where someone's affections were already contained.

Hephaistion recalled how he had stood by; observing closely, while Alexander had spoken to the girl himself; questioning her gently, asking would she agree to serve him? There had been a moment when the girl, a young lovely, red haired Kelt, had bit her luscious lips and furrowed her smooth white brow thinking on Alexander's questions. Later he told him no doubt it had startled the girl to have a say in her life. The lot of a slave, even a treasured one was never certain. She gave up the settled life of in the house of gentleman where she would never need worry from one day to the next where she might lay her head to serve the wild young Macedonian King. However, Hephaistion had seen her green eyes slide over Alexander's strong, handsome form and guessed her answer. Her host was a good man, indeed, a fine man of substantial wealth, but he did not have Alexander's muscular, golden beauty. It seemed to have taken Alexander a bit longer to figure it out.

He grinned, well, now he had his prize. Alexander's behavior was solicitous and tender in the extreme. One would never guess the thoughts beneath those tangled golden curls. Oh, not that they were lewd or rough, non, but they would indeed be amorous and highly erotic. He hoped for the girl's sake he did more than just stare at her enchanted. He noticed no fear on her part, but then again, Alexander was not one to invoke fear in such surroundings or among women. The field of battle, oh, nai, but not when caught up in the golden net of the Graces with Eros looking on. He would be a tender lover.

Hephaistion had noted his interest in her at the feast in his honor two days before, and had bet him that he would bed her before the night was out. Well, he had lost that bet. Indeed, 'twas not common of Alexander to do such things. Rarely had he seen him taken with someone. But, ah, he could not resist the lure of beauty and with the rare gift of music the girl possessed. He had promised that he was only desirous to hear her music. Hephaistion had laughed saying he would fool no one with that sentiment, but he knew him well, and understood. Something in the girl and her music had caught out, and spoken to something in him. He had sat in the midst of the feast, and only Hephaistion had known, but knowing Alexander so well, could see the dilemma behind his eyes. He desired something, but was not one to grab, take or steal, even when it was often his. So he had sat until nearly the end of the evening when finally, he had leaned across their couches, resting his head against Hephaistion's shoulder and murmured low.

"I have become a fool to a longing. I wish her music to fall upon my ears and sound in my heart, to sing me to sleep at night. Oh, 'tis sweet." He had sighed. Hephaistion had kissed his blushing face and whimpered the resolution.

"Think you he will sell her to me?"

He sat a while longer, unrequited discomfort growing upon his handsome young face. Hephaistion sitting next to him, watched, knowing his companion well saw the signs of arousal in him, and smiled.

"You hold yourself well. Why anyone else, Krateros, Philotas, Antigonous, they would be up, toss her over their shoulder and be off into the night, the ringing of their coin in payment would echo their intent. "

Alexander frowned, sighed and groaned softly. "Oh, I would…I have thought it!" He was kneading his thigh as though in pain. "'Tis not my way, but oooh, I might change that this night." Hephaistion bent across him chucking.

"Bear up a bit longer and I will ease your condition once we leave." Alexander groaned at Hephaistion's suggestion and pulled himself back upon his couch, then shot forward.

"We could seek a darkened corner." Hephaistion chuckled as he allowed himself to be led away.

"Now, how will you resolve the desire that brought you to such this state?" Hephaistion teased, as he kissed his lover's lips and nuzzled him. He leaned against a wall with Alexander resting in his arms.

"Buy her, if I may. I will have to offer quickly, and a good price lest he be tempted to say nay." He leaned his head back studying Hephaistion intently, kissed him, and then rested his head against his broad shoulder. "I am a fool, aye, do not say it.

"A fool perhaps, but one who loves his music."

So, he had gotten his music.

* * *

As Alexander led her to his quarters, they talked. The girl spoke a smattering of rough Attik. Her voice had an odd lilt to it. It too enchanted him. He grasped her hand in his squeezing it tightly, and smiled at her as she looked up at him. Her green eyes were large and full of questions. He sensed fear, and brushed a kiss across her curls to soothe her. "We will talk of your emerald isle. I wish to hear more of it, Aoife. Your name suits you, for truly you are radiant and lovely." They stood before his bed, after removing her gown, he stripped off his chiton. He brushed her long tresses back across her shoulders, his fingers lingering along her throat. He kissed where his fingers had tarried, and stroked his way down the firm mounds of her breasts. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her then, harder, but not roughly. He felt the taut length of himself rise against her belly and pressed his hand against her the firm roundness of her hips bringing her closer. He gave a sigh of relief and pleasure as she snuggled against his chest. She was the harp, full of lovely melodies and he'd not wish to cause any discord in her instrument.

He stood still, allowing her hand to trace along the mottled, still fresh scar from Gaza; she touched it with her fingers. Tracing the surgeon's work upon his chest and she pressed her lips to it and the other scars along his body. Her fingers danced along his body, plucking chords of response from him that surprised him, and found himself dizzy, groaning with the pleasure. He pushed her down beneath him on the bed. His muscles melded with her graceful flesh, his lips making a thorough progress along her limbs, marking them carefully as he would come to do for many months to come. He lingered over her silky skin, caressing, his fingers building erotic fire that he stoked slowly within her.

"Sing to me, softly, just a little." He begged as he lay beside her, caressing her throat and breasts; winding her spiraling curls about his fingers. His skin tingled where they bodies had brushed and he kissed her stomach as she raised her voice in song. He answered her, compelled by some force outside himself and softly raised his own voice, only Hephaistion heard him sing so sweetly. She smiled, the glow within her eyes sparking joy in him.

"My Lord has the voice of the god himself." She touched her long fingertips to his lips. He caught them in his hand, and kissed them one by one then, kissed her deeply, groaning against her lips as he wrapped his arms about her. A fire had roused high in him, but he was careful as he came into her, invading that force which yields but never gives way. Women were as such to him, they yielded, but were never conquered, and he had no wish to do so to them. They could mesmerize, and indeed, some did, but he was not one to be enchanted as some men were until they lost all sense of themselves. But, he could, and did, at times desire and yearn for something he could only find the arms of a lovely creature such as this. And, though his body might yearn for sensual love, his heart was forever with Hephaistion and would remain so.

He did not release her, but held her fast the night long. When he rose to see to the sacrifice and break his fast, he left her sleeping. Her kiss lingered upon his lips as strode forth to seek the new day.

In years to come those who had known him long recalled his tendre for the little harp girl and how he had been enchanted by her for several months. Only Hephaistion knew his sorrow as, one day, he watched him kneel at her bedside as she caught fever, and she and his unborn child died.

End


End file.
